


Quite An Experience to Live In Fear

by Silver (snakejolras)



Category: Blade Runner (1982), Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, blade runner!javert, replicant!les amis, replicant!valjean, well most of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:53:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakejolras/pseuds/Silver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2019, among a world of war, France becomes a powerhouse. They make their own soldiers, manufactured humanoid weapons that only last as long as you need them in theory. But wars end, and weapons can fight back. </p>
<p>Les Miserables/Blade Runner AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In 2014, world war three began. America, Russia, China, those were the superpowers and nobody was surprised. Instead, amist the bombs and the carnage, countries started to look out for themselves, their own people. So every country had it's defense, armed and ready, and for France, that was the replicants. Soldiers, robots in a sense yet completely human in their form, with amazing ability. The catch was they weren't real, but they thought they were. French citizens simply doing their duty.  Four years, that's how much life they were granted with, and to be told what you were was a notice of your own death sentence. The only saving grace was in a battlefield, you were less likely to meet that mark anyway.

Except wars end, and in 2019, world war three did. The war ended and many replicants were still alive, some knowing what they are and waiting for their end and some not. The French government didn't see fit to just let them live out their lives, but rather to disassemble them as if they were merely pieces of machinery. They made tests, ones that were designed to tell if you were a replicant or an average human, and they trained bounty hunters. Blade runners. Their job was to take down the replicants they were assigned to find. Javert was one of thegovvernment's best. He took his job incredibly seriously, tracking down every replicant he was assigned with efficiency, swiftness, and ease. They were not a thing which he would well on for long, he merely saw it was helping his government institute justice for those that were living, breathing pieces of treason. 

That was two years ago.

Now it is 2021, and replicants are a rarer being. Blade runners are a myth that is murmured among the street, but no one will ever claim they've ever truly existed, and it's quite the easy claim, as most of them merely keep to themselves and scrape up work where it's given, Javert included, though he had a different goal. The somehow aging man and the young girl with the flowers in her hair, the two that always managed to exceed his grasp and play innocent to his game. So far as Javert is concerned, this is the case he had been on for the past two years, and it had to be done before their time ended, strictly on principle alone. His goal had been tracking them and tracking them alone, so when he recieved a call asking for his assistance, he was a bit at a loss. 

Humanité Industries was a bit of an ironic title for a place that specialized in biotechnological weapons, especially ones that were easily human themselves. When it had first opened, only the government and the inventors and chemists of the industry had been at the forefront, but since the dimming of warfare it had become somewhat of an attraction, run in the media by corporate faces that enjoyed the publicity and the pay. Into the front foyer of the main office there were large, blue illuminated letters that shone with the slogan More Human than Human. Javert paid little mind to it as he walked in, sighing at the man who saw him and smiled like a shark. "Javert. Just the man I wanted to see."

Javert didn't bother to smile back, a fake one not particularly his style of things. "Monseiur Thenardier. I was called in for an assignment?" 

The preadatory look of the other man dropped, deadpanly annoyed. "Follow me." The two men walked into another space, a smaller room, dimly lit with a small side table at it's right. Thenardier took a remote from the table, clicking a button and illuminating a file in the same blue letters as the front screen displayed. "They're revolting against us." He choked out a laugh that Javert ignored the sadism of. "It's amazing, how human they seem. Technology, yeah?" 

"Yeah." Javert brushed off, looking at the screen. "You said they. It's a group?"  
  


The other man pressed another button, the screen transitioning into several files next to one another. "Whole little group of them. Call themselves Paradise Found. Don't look like much, but they've taken down to of our facilities already."

Javert listened, looking at each of the pictures for a long time. "Do you know which one of them is the leader?"

Thenardier nodded, not even looking. "The blonde one, up there. 2018 model, pretty young. They call him Icarus, but the name he was given was Enjolras. But they shouldn't be hard to take down. They're terrorists, we can get tips."

It took Javert a moment to peel his eyes away from Enjolras' picture, looking at the other man. "Have there ever been any other incidents like this?"

Within a minute the screen was gone, the room darkened again, and Thenardier slipped past him toward the door. "Confidental. Just do your damn job."

Javert glanced at the wall where everything had been once again before turning and following him out.

* * *

Valjean found them in the later months of 2020, on the outskirts of Paris where they had been waiting out the authorities. Cosette found them first, on a walk she trekked through out of pure rebellion against his wishes, where she met one Marius Pontmercy. The two seemed to connect instantly, and Cosette had given him their entire story in full.

How her mother, Fantine, had died four years ago, and then Valjean had adopted her as his own. Valjean was a simple man, who she saw as a father, and she had never seen him commit il toward any being, yet they were being chased by a man they didn't know. When Marius used the term 'blade runner', Cosette had no idea what it entailed, and when he told her all she could do was stare. "But...I'm human. Papa is human too, why...why would they be after us?"

Marius couldn't give her a reason, but he did know a way to help. The organization of Paradise Found was full of replicants, rebelling against their creators not for their own lives but for the lives of the rest of their kind, and he'd felt more at home with them than he had anyone else. "I'm human too." He smiled, nervously. "But if you fake a birthdate, they'll never know the difference, so long as you're on their side." 

The fire this sparked into Cosette was one that not even Valjean could extinguish, and he reluctantly gave into her insistence that hey join the rebellious, but as fate would have it, they ran into them before that, after Paradise's second take down of the east side Human Ind. facility. Marius' confidence in the two allowed them easy enough entrance, though their leader focused on Valjean for a long time after, watching him intently.

"Is she your daughter?" His voice was even softer than his features when he finally spoke, and the older man glanced over at him inquisitively. "Cosette. You act like you are father and daughter. Is that what you consider each other?" 

Valjean nodded, looking over at Cosette at her mention immediately. "Yes."

Enjolras smiled, gentle in a way that took Valjean by surprise. "That's good. We don't get parents, as you know. Not real ones, anyway. The closest thing most of us have to a father is a sadist in a lab coat. At least she has one." His voice trailed off and he looked over at the rest of their group, Valjean watching him.

"...You're the youngest one here."

Enjolras did not look away, speaking softly. "Currently, yes." 

"And yet you're spending the time you have risking yourself. Why?"

Curls covered Enjolras' eyes with how quickly he turned his head, staring at him. "I am going to die. I don't want to, by any means, but I will. If humans lived as long as we do, they would only be learning to speak on their death bed. Yet they think us lesser, that they can just throw us away. We're better than that, these people-- and we are, people-- they're better than that. I hate death, with every fiber of my being, but if I have to die, I might as well do something of worth for my epitaph." The blue spark in his eyes slowed down to a simmer, and he looked away again. "I would die for them. ...And you would die for her, wouldn't you?"

Valjean watched him, finally nodding. "...Yes. I would." 

Enjolras looked at him, giving a hint of what could almost count as a smile, yet was soft and sweet all the same. "Fiery the angels fell." He pulled himself up, walking over to the rest of the group, sitting himself next to a gruff looking man with black curls in his face and a bottle in his hand. Valjean watched them all before focusing his eyes on Cosette, repeating Enjolras' words in his mind.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Most of them had known one another most of their lives, as far as that notion went. Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, and Bossuet, they'd all been together, Enjolras the most freshly so. They meet Jehan in a military cemetery of unmarked graves in July of 2019, and it takes him another year to speak to anyone who isn't Courfeyrac. Musichetta comes along shortly after him, and she with Joly and Bossuet seem to combine perfectly like an algebriac solution to the world. Enjolras and Combeferre find Feuilly on a Christmas morning in a misty Paris, sitting in front of a church bitter and bemused. "It's my birthday," he says, finally after their trust becomes solidified. "I guess it helped with their God complexes." 

Courfeyrac drags Marius in in the January of 2020, and he seems fidgety and nervous about details first but they all ride it off as being afraid to tell anyone at all. Anyway, he seems to meld right in after a bit of time, and it's not soon after that Feuilly finds Bahorel, getting kicked out of a bar for being the hell out of an ex-Runner teling stories to his buddy next to him. For awhile, they're just a group of misfits, until they realize they all have the need to  _do_ something about their situation. Not for themselves, per say, as amazing as that would be, but for the rest of their kind being treated like they're nothing and being given a death sentence before they can even fully live. It is upon this revelation that their small group of misfit toys becomes Paradise Found, the cluster of fallen angels not rebelling against humanity, but looking to be given equal right to it. Enjolras becomes their leader through his passion and words, and the logical notion that he is the youngest one of them, the easiest to pass the torch. The name Icarus is not given to him until September of 2020, where they're all hiding out in a foreclosed and evicted hotel, and Enjolras is sitting on what used to be a bar, looking at the cracked paint within the walls, and a voice rings out behind him.

"Want a drink?" Enjolras quickly slid off the bar, looking at him when the other man put his hands up. "Relax," His voice gave the notion that he was already drinking himself, and smoked more than a chimney, but his eyes had a smirk in them that were casual and friendly, and the blond's tension lowered just slightly. "The bar is still full, if you want something."

Enjolras looked back, glancing at the bottles that were still mostly in tact, the other man's eyes still on him. "I saw your friends downstairs, very nice....would people be a politically correct term?"

_"We're people."_ There was an automatic, instinctual urgency to his voice, as if pulling away from a snake's bite would have the same effect. He continued studying the bottles, ignoring the man's gaze to the best of his abiliy. "And you?"

He was silent for awhile, and Enjolras could feel him nod and look away. "2018. Pisces, if anyone is checking, but I doubt they do that on purpose, eh?" He stretched, moaning a bit before taking a few steps toward Enjolras. "I just live here, you guys can hide out as long as you want. Do you want that drink or not?"

Enjolras glanced at him and then away again. "I don't usually drink."

The other man laughed, the history of nicotine flying back up in it's hoarse quality. "What, waiting until you're twenty-one?"

"Shut up." Enjolras looked away and slid across the bar, grabbing one of the bottles and random and opening it up, took a swig and coughed right away, closing his eyes and scrunching his nose up. "Oh my god, that is awful. Why would you do that?"

He laughed more, sliding across the bar as well and taking the bottle away, sliding back again to sit on the bar. "That's gin, dumbass. Gin is barely even passable as something other than household chemical cleaner if you mix it with ten thousand other things."

Enjolras opened his eyes again, giving him a look. "Then why would anyone drink it?"

He shrugged, dark curls bouncing a bit with how fluidly he did. "Same reason you'd go on a crusade for life when you've got the life span of a resilient hamster." 

"It's not for my life." His voice had the same recoil as before. "Which, if you've already spoken to my friends, you know that."

"You really think you can change something? They're a huge corporation, they don't care about us, they have us programmed exactly the way they want us." He swished the bottle around, glancing at it. "Desposable."

"But we're not." Enjolras took a step closer, and the other man's attention moved away from the gin and back to him. "They gave us a prototype, a theoretical heart beat and a body. Our souls, we made those. We're people, just as them. What they do to use, it's first degree murder, and it needs to be stopped. There has to be a way to make our lives be normal, and we shouldn't be persecuted, a baby wouldn't be persecuted because their mother gave birth to them. We deserve to live, and be happy, and if we have to tear them down for that to be noticed then so be it." He stopped long enough to see the other man's gaze and blinked. "...What?"

The blue in his eyes was deeper than Enjolras' own, both from his previous drinking and how long he'd been staring directly into Enjolras' own. There was a hint of a natural smile on his lips that he couldn't pull away and he shook his head just enough. "Nothing." Enjolras continued to watch him, and he looked down quickly. "Flying toward the sun type, aren't you?" 

The blond blinked, shrugging. "When I need to be, yes." 

The other man shook his head, curls bouncing as he slid off on the other side of the bar, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "When are you guys leaving?"

Another blink. "I thought you said we can stay as long as we'd like."

"I did, yeah." He opened the pack up, pulling a single cigarette out. "But maybe that's not why I asked," he put the cigarette in his mouth and then held the pack out to Enjolras, his speech muffled. "Want one?" Enjolras shook his head, watching him, and he nodded and put the pack away. "Good, things will kill ya." 

He ignored that last part, his voice softer. "You want to come with us."

"Well my schedule is pretty free this next year and a half."

Enjolras watched him with a gentle curiosity. "I thought it was a last cause."

He glanced at him, and quickly away again when he saw his expression, inhaling sharply and pulling the cigarette away, exhaling casually. "Prove me wrong then, Icarus."

He scrunched up his nose as he had with the gin, raising a brow at the name. "My name is Enjolras."

"I know, they told me. Icarus suits you." He finally looked at him again, nodding. "Grantaire." Enjolras started to smile and Grantaire turned away again, inhaling and moving toward the door. "I'm usually either here or the third floor, tell me when you guys are ready to kick off your mission from God."

Enjolras watched him, still smiling a bit. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

He laughed and it turned into a cough from the smoke in his lungs. "Personally, I'd be amazed if you did." Enjolras' smile grew while he continued to the door, and slowly he let it fade.

"...Grantaire." He stopped to look at him and Enjolras glanced over at the bottles before looking at him again, his voice as soft as before. "You should stop smoking."

Grantaire stared at him for awhile, almost surprised, until I finally let it crack into a smile. "I'll take it as a note of critique." Enjolras tried to smile back until he moved out of the room before letting it fade, sliding back onto the bar, which Combeferre woud tell him the next morning he laid down on and fell asleep, and Bahorel woke him up by laughing at the sight. 

They left a day later, and Grantaire went with them as he said, and the nature of his and Enjolras' bickering and debating only got more intense, and somehow this always ended in Grantaire smiling at him whenever he got ahead of himself and completely into what he was saying, which only made him all the more frustrated. It got to  the degree Courfeyrac would groan anytime they began, with vague mentions of starting a drinking game in regard to their arguments. A few months later, they come across Valjean and Cosette, and after Enjolras speaks with Valjean for sometime he comes to sit next to Grantaire, who glances over at the older man and then back to Enjorlas. "Giving a pep talk?"

"Something about them seems different," he glanced at Grantaire, blinking. "It's not bad, just...I don't know, something."

Grantaire sighed. "Good to know your articulate nature can fly right out the window when you're confused."

"Shut up."

"And there it is." He rolled his eyes, shrugging. "I don't know. They're scared, give them a few days."

Enjolras got quieter, glancing around. "They're not going to stop being scared in a few days." He kept his eyes focused away from Grantaire, sighing after a moment. "Stop looking at me." He could feel the other man's gaze move and sighed at himself, focusing. "Anyway, we need to move soon. We need bigger plays."

Grantaire raised a brow. "I thought we were waiting on that?"

Enjolras nodded, quickly looking outward. "We were, yes. But Combeferre only until February. We need to speed things up." 

He went back to watching him almost instinctively, his voice softer. "You're sure about that?"

"2021 is being rung in in less than a week. Yes. I'm sure about that." 

"When should we leave?"

The voice rang out behind them both, and they both turned to see Cosette kneeling down to sit next to them, casual and patient. Enjolras nodded once. "Tomorrow. Let everyone know."

Cosette nodded in return. "Where are we going?"

Enjolras glanced at Grantaire and then away. "Paris."

 

 


End file.
